Cornelius Wilde

The Recruit | a road too far

Part I

-Four hours at the most-

16th day, second month of Winter 196 NC

Operation 'Main Market'

2nd hour

The blazing catapult shot unleashed a torrent of flames appearing out of nowhere. It carved a fiery trail through the frigid winter night to reach them. Before anyone could even react, it ricocheted off the cobblestones in front of their bewildered group and then embedded itself into the wall of the two-story building at the market's eastern corner collapsing it onto a cluster of bewildered mercenaries, standing right behind them. Panic erupted as people screamed in horror, the acrid smoke invading Cornelius' nostrils while Chief Sergeant Masin shouted at the top of his lungs.

"ARCHERS!" A hand pointing towards the dark outline of the imposing Keep known as the Dungeons, which they could now see looming against the moonlit sky, just a street block away.

Cornelius snapped his head in that direction and spotted the Khanate long-bowmen quickly lining up amidst the thick night mist, just as the shouting Brody gripped his shoulder to shove him down. Cornelius couldn't hear his words. The ringing in his ears had drowned out the young Issir's voice. Amidst all the unfolding chaos their own crossbow-wielding troops reached the open street leading to the Palace grounds and immediately paused, took aim and then unleashed their fire upon the archers.

Several of the still rushing to group up archers went down, but the rest of them loosed their arrows against the scrambling to protect themselves mercenaries, as more of the latter came out of the market's alleys with each passing moment. Sergeant Di Cresta ordered the first row of soldiers —Cornelius group basically— to raise their shields, with many incoming arrows shattering on them as a result or ricocheting to hit the nearby brick walls. Other projectiles just got deflected on conned helms and even armour, or just didn't, dropping several Gallant Dogs troops as a result.

"Charge at them!" Masin roared looking at the cowering behind his shield Cornelius and got their group of fifty-strong to march against the packed with Khanate archers Main Street out of instinct. Another volley was fired against them, with many archers opting to lob arrows over the marching wall of soldiers, at the mercenaries still gathering up behind them.

"Wayward Damsels… in bloody distress!" Brody cursed, pausing when the arrows fell within their ranks, shattering on shields and dropping six Dogs. Two of them killed outright. "Where did them new fuckers come from?"

Cornelius kept his shield raised marching at the corner of their block-formation and as the archers parted not a hundred meters from them, he saw weird figures and shapes moving behind them in the semi-dark.

To the large street's east side, where the tourney grounds supposedly stood, he could now spot a series of domed army tents and in the distance —behind the Dungeons— the sturdy walls of the citadel all lit up. Right between the two landmarks at least a thousand torches danced as more reinforcements marched towards the staggered Dogs.

"HALT!" Cornelius barked and waved his sword for Masin to stop Di Cresta from funneling more men forward as they came out of the market's alleys. "PREPARE TO RECEIVE LANCERS!" He roared, the thunderous sound of many hooves striking cobblestone rattling the young mercenary's bones and his legs shaking almost as much the ground underneath his soaked boots.

"Stay in line you bastards! You'll fucking kill us all!" Brody snapped at a mercenary who tried to retreat breaking formation and the tensed Cornelius realized Masin couldn't speak because he was wrestling with an arrow stuck in his throat.

Ole Mavors appears to enjoy keeping his battles interesting, the young mercenary thought in despair, but this is getting absurdly ridiculous!

The year of the New Calendar 195 ended with a brutal winter. It ushered in an equally cold first month after its end, and thus 196 started in an ominous manner. With Castalor and Colle busy licking their wounds, it is suspected Desmond Boss was ordered to stay his assault on Eagleport until the fleet was ready to support him against Admiral Osahar. The Khanate Lord had received eight new ships during the previous six months, as First Advisor Sam Phanti, with the help of Tahu-Nefer and Osase, had managed to fully repair Rida's naval yards and stabilize civilian life in the former Lorian city for the Khanate's citizens. Phanti, a skillful administrator, had managed to outwork Lord Rinus Van De Aesst, who in his defense had to tackle personal tragedy and the navy crews strike the previous year at Caspo O' Bor.

Despite Phanti's advancements in the Shallow Sea's strategic operations and logistics, he struggled to maintain authority over the more remote territories of the Khanate that lay beyond the Great Steppe. After Prince Atpa's departure, troops loyal to the bedridden Khan had managed to establish a tenuous grip on the capital –acting probably on the advisor's orders, yet the location of the Prince remained a significant worry, as Atpa commanded over twenty-five thousand highly trained soldiers in the Army of the Desert, who were by now fiercely loyal to him. Lacking a viable strategy to persuade Atpa to aid the beleaguered Pourem —the Prince was notoriously a difficult to rein in character, Phanti was compelled to divide the reinforcements they had assembled in Rida, with assistance from Duke Reeves—a blend of Khanate and Lorian forces—while also reserving a segment of the army in reserve to confront Atpa.

Everyone feared the Prince in his 'absence' and several attempts were made to appease him. As was the truth with Prince Atpa's real intentions, none of those attempts at negotiation can be realistically considered as being genuine, although the record has been tainted by Atpa's historians. We've documented Atpa's demands in the previous chapter and some of his 'less than friendly' actions. Be that as it may, it made general Pourem's already 'unsavory' situation even more difficult, as he badly needed the Trinity's undivided attention. His unflappable, savage negotiation tactics, did numb the Queen's armies to inaction but with the bigger siege machines slowly finishing building outside the capital's walls, Pourem knew he would have a big fight in his hands once the weather cleared.

The weather didn't. A lot of snow came during those last months and then it turned into two brutal snowstorms on the first month of the fresh year. Chinos River flooded and it narrowed down the mooring spots at the river docks, with the naval yards' artificial water basins turning unusable for weeks. While Pourem had to deal with the inflow of less supplies, already greatly affected by Osahar's transports getting attacked each day by Duke Rik's troops, the Duke himself had to deal with a split command.

Despite the Queen giving Rik De Weer overall command of the armies in the field, Castalor continued to operate under its own timeline at the also besieged Eagleport, greatly stalling a decisive strike —probably wanting to return the command to its ailing heir Sir Walter Van Oord, and Viscount De Moss run every one of the Duke's orders by the Queen. The latter's presence, now camped very near the front beyond Uxrid River, had created two centers of gravity for the larger Duchy's army, with the Desert Crows existing as a third separate group, although Gust's old comrades heavily favored the Duke in his decisions, as it was revealed later.

Although a surprise given the Desert Crows affinity towards his absent brother —and the Queen's spouse, it made sense strategically that the Desert Crows leadership had taken a liking to Rik's idea and soon offered their own insight on how to make it more impactful, or even expand upon the original scale of the undertaking. King Lucius writings of the time reveal that he also favored a flanking assault, as 'this is a short window of local dominance for Elsanne's armies' which wouldn't last forever according to the King of Greater Regia.

And it shouldn't have; both the Duke and the good King were in the right in this author's humble opinion.

Anyways, with new plans and altered drafts going back and forth between the many camps at the two rivers, news of an imminent covert action/assault probably circulated outside, but also inside the capital as early as the final month of 195 NC.

The alerted Pourem tested the Issirs intentions by randomly halting the daily executions and sending out envoys to entertain the idea of a prisoners exchange for supplies, but this probable ruse and negotiating tactics game, was a way for him to get a fresh perspective on the Issir coming plans.

A growing number of cholera cases and other maladies plagued the impoverished, displaced civilians surrounding the Issir army camps, and several soldiers fell ill as well. The army instructed the troops to boil fresh snow and steer clear of the contaminated river waters. However, after months of stagnation and cohabitation, a peculiar bond had formed between soldiers and civilians of different cities that led to an exchange of services for food and liquor. Despite attempts to rein in the burgeoning black market that led to mini raids on the army's supplies and even a few violent clashes between sentries and looters, it proved to be an arduous challenge for all involved.

Pourem's schemes sparked a wave of discontent regarding the Queen's seemingly indifferent attitude, with rumors —disseminated by Pourem's agents— suggesting that Elsanne had rejected the general's purported offers to surrender in good faith, opting instead to eliminate her subjects because 'they had welcomed Anker's heir two years earlier'.

Under this climate Duke Rik De Weer redeployed Gel De Moss' Desert Crows infantry and Lode De Jagger's rangers from Eagle's Bridge, and secured the Gallant Dogs assistance. The Mercenary outfit was busy buttressing its ranks at the time, and promised the Duke two full companies of troops —the majority of the men it had available and trained— for his campaign. In order to protect his preparations and buildup from the hawkish Khanate patrols and sentries, Duke Rik used trickery, whilst working after sunset.

Boats were constructed, materiel, common supplies and men were relocated near the destroyed Mid Bridge. As one of Khanate historians present in the siege wrote years after the war, describing the almost two years struggle from the Khanate's perspective —the respected scholar Satau Harua in his epic 'Oktakosia Nychtas' aka 'Eight Hundred nights'— with his words colored by a touch of hindsight and anachronism; 'one could listen to the vile Crows chat amongst each other during the silent, cold nights that winter. Their growing numbers circling the doomed city.'

Three weeks earlier

27th day of the First month of 196

"Ah, this is a great beer, Mister Slager," Tony Hoyer declared, foam dripping down his chin, which prompted an instant reaction out of Brody Hoovers. The young man slammed the goblet on their small square table in protest.

"No it isn't, you ignorant fool!" He argued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've had piss tasting much better than this!"

"You drunk urine? Why would you Brody?" Huibert asked, lowering the goblet from his own mouth perturbed.

"It's an expression," Brody elucidated with a grimace. "To showcase the low quality of this very-expensive beverage!" He added with a glare at the tavern owner. Slager signed for two of his thugs to calm down and walked to their table with another reassuring stare at the rest of his patrons.

"Ehm… this here lad! Why, he is a blasted aristocrat, right?" Slager said with a smirk. "Never had to drink a man's beer afore!"

"Ha-ha!" A table right across from them responded and Brody narrowed his eyes annoyed. "Tell them Slager! Fucking mercs!"

"That's right!" Another yelled and Slager slotted two fingers in his mouth immediately. He then whistled sharply to get the attention of one of the three overworked waitresses.

"A round for the boys in the corner table," he ordered. "On the house!"

"Slager is the man!" The patrons at the said corner rejoiced, banging their fists on the table in rhythm.

"A petty man resorts to bribery absent proper argument!" Brody retorted rather eloquently, which was on par with him being quite intoxicated and Slager reached to take the goblet of beer away from him.

"Nobody here wants to listen to your conspiratorial sophistry, Hoovers," he cautioned Cornelius' inebriated friend. "How about you go visit a Lorian bathhouse instead? Play the philosopher there with them oiled faggots and allow us common folk to enjoy our affordable beer?"

"Your beer sucks," Brody declared and grabbed the goblet from the tavern owner's hands forcefully, spilling some of its foam on the table.

"Better enjoy it," Slager grunted now annoyed. "It might be the last you have boy!"

"Brody," his friend corrected him warningly and Cornelius decided to intervene for two reasons. Firstly to prevent a fight from breaking out, and secondly to satisfy his curiosity, which as it happened, the tavern owner's words had tickled.

"What do you mean last?" Cornelius asked and Slager turned to look at him with a frown.

"Just calm down, will you? It wasn't a threat. This is a darn decent beer for the blasted period, Wilde! You know it!" Slager argued.

"Forget about the beer," Cornelius insisted. "What did you mean, Mister Slager?"

The tavern owner stood back with a smack of his lips. "You know… the thing you lads have coming."

"What thing?" Cornelius asked, now more serious. "Speak openly!"

"Listen," Slager grunted. "One of your own told us all about it. He fancies Petra and came the other day with a proposal for the two of them to run away. Now, I'm all in favor of love and roses; weddings even, provided they are held in my venues, but this is a demanding period for the business and the middle of bloody winter, so we got no roses also."

"Slager, gods damn it!" Cornelius snapped and got up. "What do you know?"

"What's gotten into you? I asked where the coin will come from, as up to recently he'd none to show for, and he told us the army is going to pay two months' worth of salaries as bonus to all those taking part in the mission."

"Which is?" Cornelius insisted furrowing his brows.

Slager licked his lips and cast a side-glance at the now silent patrons watching their back and forth. "Everyone knows Lord Crow is up to something. All them troops moving hither and thither. And the birds man. Darn things have infested every pole and rooftop."

Cornelius puffed out. "Does everyone know the specifics? People's lives are in danger here Slager. This is dangerous gossip you're spreading about."

The tavern keeper grimaced and then pressed at his forehead with three fingers. "You got to be kidding me with this attitude. I'm as big a patriot as you Wilde. In plain words, nobody will write stories about our courage or contributions to the fucking cause. You're just another mercenary lad –not even a soldier under our sacred kingdom's banner, and same as myself, you look to make coin out of this conflict. Anyways, in order for three people to keep a secret, two of them must kick the bucket pretty fast. You are dealing with three whole camps and two different blasted settlements here. That's a lot of fucking people."

Cornelius pursed his mouth, returned the aforementioned Petra's flirty stare with a glare and then grabbed Brody under the armpit. "Leave that," he grunted at his protesting friend. "We're heading back to camp."

-

Later that evening

Martell's headquarters

Cornelius fixed the collar on his outfit, the leather underside of his armour hard as iron, and nodded at the guard standing outside the entrance, before walking inside. The large wooden hall warmer even without a lit bronze brazier, although hot coals could be seen smoldering inside and the atmosphere reeked of sweat, leather and smoke.

Masin turned to glare his way and Cornelius made a gesture he got held up by traffic at the bridge, before turning his attention to the Commandant's words. The Eunuch Jasi sat in a chair next to the standing captain and on his other shoulder a map of the capital was open on a stand.

"Pourem has reinforced the area between the docks and the North Gates in order to protect the ruined part of the walls. The Naval Yards are protected by the canal feeding the moat from a direct assault, so there is a tight parcel of land there… the Duke believes," Martell paused to stare at the map for a long moment before continuing. "Only covered by the North Tower, where a determined, and sudden attack could sneak past."

"It's very near the Main Market," Sergeant Super explained and Martell stopped him with a gesture.

"I'll get to this part Sergeant. Just afford me some time. You don't have to respect the person, but for the love of God, respect the rank," he admonished him. "The Duke wants to destroy the docks and flatten the Naval Yards if it is possible, but his true target is the big corn and grain warehouses across the Main Market. All the buildings inside said market as well. Mind you, we are not talking ten stalls and five fruit-kiosks here. It's a big fucking place. Not like them bazaars back on Eplas, but close enough. Right then, that's well inside and past the walls eh? Pourem has taken in a great harvest this summer unopposed and he's making great efforts to ration food is the rumor. So expect the nearby structures to be packed with produce to the rafters."

"There are almost a hundred thousand people left inside the capital, if one counts the slaves," Masin pointed out. "Is this even possible?"

"I don't believe Pourem feeds the civilians, unless they contribute to the defense of the city that is, or likewise. Obviously the slaves are kept well-fed," the Eunuch replied in his strange accent. Everyone felt uncomfortable being in the same room with the perfumed, effeminately-painted man wearing women's robes.

Masin cracked his neck right and left. "Continue," he told the tensed Martell.

"Our plan is to strike at the Dungeons. Take advantage of the tumult happening at the walls and the market, cross the latter to reach the capital's main north street and quickly march against the guards there. We have over seventy of our brothers imprisoned, probably a good number of soldiers and of course Sergeant Liko."

Cornelius grimaced finally hearing what the plan was, but kept his silence in front of the other mercenary officers.

"Lu Douc-Re will assault the docks," Martell continued making air quotes, "but in reality they are to hold against any forces camped outside the walls, patrols, or guards coming from the North Gates. It's a difficult task to anchor our flank but the Cofol is tough as nails and won't let us down, which is why Masin's boys will follow the Desert Crows up those ladders."

Son of a bitch.

"If they fail to scale the walls and then neutralize the tower, Lu's lads will get wiped out," Super noted seeing Cornelius expression. While still a recruit, working alongside Masin for months had elevated him in the eyes of his peers, even before he'd received his dog tags.

"The Duke will hit the Naval Yards from the rear and fake a frontal attack, but that's a matter still in discussion with the Viscount as it involves the rest of the army," Martell took over to continue explaining the plan. "By the way everything discussed in here, must stay between us. No word of this to your comrades Wilde," he told Cornelius.

"Say we make it inside," Cornelius probed trying to keep it respectful. "Has the Duke agreed with our own plans?"

"The Duke only cares about the grain," Martell replied crooking his mouth. "He won't know about it and you won't tell them. In the chaos your men shall peel off easily Masin."

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"We don't work for the Duke," Masin agreed and gave Cornelius a warning stare. "But penetrating so deep near the palace gardens makes me nervous Martell. Uher's Pond is near there and we might encounter a lot of mist, if the wind blows to the east."

"We shall worry about the weather later. The Dungeon is across the jousting grounds," Martell argued trying to reassure him. "Everyone will rush towards the market and the walls, while you'll cut across to the east and then turn south towards the Palace. Still it will be a kilometer away from the Citadel, while you will only have to travel a mere two hundred meters in order to reach the prison. That's it, the moment you march through the warehouses, it shall be flat cobblestone road ahead of you, with great visibility. A nice straight march to the prison entrance. Get the recruits to bring our boys home Wilde and you'll get a rank out of it, double the pay and a wooden quarters like this one."

Cornelius went to speak, but the eunuch stood up and reaching touched Martell's forearm. The Commandant recoiled as if a bug had crawled up his arm and recovering fast, cleaned his throat once, afore addressing the egg-headed eunuch.

"Yes, Lord Jasi?"

Cornelius frowned not expecting the title.

"I can deliver the East Gates," the thinly smiling eunuch told the mercenaries watching him warily.

"How?" Masin grunted.

"The local garrison is made up by Issirs working for Remas. One of Pourem's lieutenants," Jasi explained. "The Queen prefers an attempt to be made from that side."

"We can't relocate enough forces there," Martell grunted. "And it is too far from the Dungeon, while the East Gates face the Citadel's boulevard. Not to mention there are two more towers to worry about at the corners, assuming your man delivers in his bold claim. A failure shall spell doom for him surely. Is he that big a patriot, milord Jasi?"

Cornelius wanted to know that also.

"It's unfortunate, but if we march around the bridges to Stag's Bridge," Masin expounded further. "Pourem will spot us easily and furthermore it's a narrower front and easier to defend. Unless Sir Robert is already there, this isn't favorable to us, milord."

"Don't you want to take the city?" Jasi asked them. "I brought a bird that can carry a missive to Ipsen and he'll move against any loyal guards there."

"Our first priority is to retrieve our comrades," Martell explained. "The Duke's desire is to starve Pourem out, and what the good Queen wants, needs double the army we have here, in order to succeed. Else, Pourem will just relocate his force moving through shorter lines and meet us at the gates. In order to have the men needed to repel him, we shall have to tip Pourem off and then your man won't be able to take the gates as easily. I'm as guilty as you for not having the balls to flat out speak it to her face, after all she's been through, but it is the sad truth."

"I appreciate you want the young man saved—" Jasi started with Martell cutting him off.

"I don't think you do, with all respect, milord Jasi," the commandant smiled nervously. "Inform the Queen that this must take priority, or we'll lose the men. Don't expect people to rally up, or follow orders, when they see their comrades tossed from the walls to their death."

Jasi pursed his penciled lips and let his eyes roam the crowded room for a moment. He paused on Nita Ola, and the scribe returned his stare, then slowly put her quill down. "We don't want the Duke's attempt to fail. I'm sorry captain, but the Kingdom yearns for the return of its capital more than it cares about your officer. The bigger picture is important and the Monarch will agree," the eunuch finally said.

"As I said milord, Jasi," Sergeant Masin rustled firmly. "You don't understand Garth at all."

"I understand that the Queen's wishes is for the Duke to succeed, if another plan is not feasible," Jasi retorted. He had raised his voice but still maintained that thin smile on his lips.

"It shall succeed," Martell retorted a little insulted. "The Dogs shall hold the flanks at the docks, for both armies. Pourem will lose his precious supplies, starve and come summer he'll give in."

A tensed Cornelius grimaced, not entertaining everyone's certainty they would manage to catch Pourem with his pants down. The alert eunuch seemed to spot his anxiousness.

"I shall leave our feathered friend with you," Jasi said in a diplomatic manner, and made a small pause to focus his interest on Cornelius, which only managed to make the young man even more uncomfortable. "Just in case."

"People are aware of our plans," Cornelius told Bardo Masin on their return to the Gold Contract tents. The recruits had slowly found their favorite spots inside the camp, formed groups and even created their own petty rivalries. "I was in Slager's tavern and he all but confirmed it."

"What does he know?" Masin asked, halting to button up his overcoat. "Because what you heard from Martell back there… is the plan, and it could very well change on the morrow."

"They discuss it openly," Cornelius insisted and Masin sighed, then stared at the reddish sky over their heads. "Snow will fall again tonight," he told Cornelius. "It's a guess, but seeing the sky, it's not too-bad of a guess right?"

Cornelius stood back. "You are not worried?"

"Nothing is further from the truth," Masin admonished him abruptly, then his face softened somewhat and it wasn't easy or too common to go unnoticed, given how stiff the sergeant always seemed to be. "People will make up rumors, add truth in them and hypothesize, even nail some of the details. Still, unless you start spreading the details yourself, or any of us in the know, Pourem won't be certain and the Duke will look to surprise him some. Am I certain? I can't be, because the risk is too great and you lads are un-blooded. Push comes to shove, a man's true mettle is revealed they say, but truth of the matter is you might all drop shields and run away."

Cornelius feared the same thing and he grimaced with discomfort in the attempt to argue against the sergeant's point.

"Morale is such a fickle thing, easily plummeting at the nigh inopportune moments," Masin continued as they walked between the tents. Brody came out of theirs, spotted the sergeant, ogled his eyes and lithely ducked back inside in order to avoid a late night shift, or worse, for failing to report in time from their leave of absence. "But steer it the right way… at the right time and you might grasp victory out of the jaws of defeat. In our coming task, this defeat might be the last for many of us, but this… as with the plans you might overhear from the Duke on the morrow, or the officers just earlier, you must keep from your comrades, Wilde. The Eunuch's words, the Queen's must also remain private, else more trouble shall befall the whole outfit. It is what us better-paid officers must learn to do the hard way for it's our duty and it's that same burden and responsibility we can't share."

"Martell's stratagem—" Cornelius began, but Masin interrupted him, gesturing towards the tents filled with soldiers surrounding them.

"Have some faith that Rollon possesses greater knowledge about the leaders of this realm, and keep in mind the crucial reason that fuels… aye, fuels the desire in all us older heads of the outfit, to attempt this rescue. Liko would have risked it all for me, and he would have done the same for you, Cornelius."

-

Over two weeks later

14th day of the 2nd Month of 196 NC

Chinos River south banks

Less than a kilometer from Mid Bridge

The tanned Issir warrior with the worn-out cloak and the strange armour paused to return Cornelius' stare. Hard eyes warning the younger man to think it over and under the long braided white beard at the split of the long cloak, Cornelius could spot the small square plates riveted on the brigandine. An exotic Lord's armour, looking out of place worn by the Issir.

"The Grey Cloaks camped at the base of the bridge," Masin said stepping forward to turn Cornelius around. "How is it going Flip?" He asked the hardened Issir warrior, who let out a grunt, but said nothing else. "Right," Masin murmured and turned to walk with Cornelius towards the Duke's guarded headquarters, built at the site of an old barn by the road.

"Who was that?"

"Sergeant Flip Zalme. Captain Gel De Moss' right hand man, also out of Rusted," Masin replied crooking his wrinkled mouth. "The Grey Cloaks are basically the Raven of Dawn's people. Part infantry, part cavalry, the core of the Desert Crows. So while Gel De Moss is the Viscount's kin, don't go about confusing him with Lord Ard, eh? He ain't diplomatic at all."

Gust De Weer aka the Raven of Dawn, was the Queen's spouse obviously and Cornelius nodded, still curious about the mysterious unit, everyone seemed to respect a lot.

"A friend of yours?" Cornelius asked.

"Never got around to like him. Old Flip is the kind of bastard, who in the event someone suggests leniency for the captured, he volunteers to be the executioner."

Uhm. That's specific, Cornelius thought quite fascinated with the story.

The frowned Masin paused at the entrance to give a nod of greeting at one of the men-at-arms standing guard next to the line of horses.

"The Duke is inside?" He asked.

"Aye. Captain Martell as well," the Issir replied, blowing vapors and giving a glance at the darkening sky. "It's fixing to be a cold one sir."

"If it's cold, it won't bring more snow," Masin replied and glanced at Cornelius. "The Desert Crows landed on Eplas and built Devil's Cove out of dry plinths and sand, back in 189," the sergeant told Cornelius. "Also beat the living shit out of any Horselords they came upon. The first outfit to fight back with some success against them. Then they travelled through the desert, fought their way more like, captured Tirifort and Tyeusfort with the help of Sir Robert, before finally they arrived at Eikenport to save the Queen and bring her here," Masin puffed out reminiscing and then pursed his mouth tightly. "Aye. That's just about it," he added.

"How do you know so much about them?" Cornelius asked with a glance at the half-hidden amidst the snowed banks of the river Desert Crows camp. He couldn't help but notice the large number of actual crows occupying every available space —mostly the top of the field tents, and the strange sounds they produced.

"I was there," Masin replied.

"With the Dogs?" Cornelius asked and the sergeant signed for Cornelius to follow him inside the Duke's headquarters.

"The three hundred," Masin murmured as they entered the barricaded barn.

"The boats will hug the northern shores of the river, in order to escape detection from the tower's sentries," Rik De Weer explained to his audience, his sole dark brown eye watching each man like a hawk. "Martell will return with all fanfare beyond the bridge, so it'll appear the Dogs have gone with him."

"In nighttime and with plenty of torches for each man. Well, two per that is," Martell explained stooping forward. He immediately made a face embarrassed at the less than ideal delivery, cleared his throat once and then yielded the word back to the Duke without offering any further input.

"Struder will protect the boats and offer cover-fire for the advancing units," Rik continued. "Kugel's spears will march towards the Naval Yards from the rear, the Old Dogs will do the same towards the Docks and the Northern Gates. While the gates are useless there, the docks are important, so they shall stay put. Taking over the ruined part of the walls is immaterial as it will alert the East Tower and bring more guards into the mix."

Cornelius had heard most of the plans already, or close variations depending on the available units and examined the faces of the officers present. Everyone seemed extremely focused on the Duke's words, even the mercenaries.

The latter of course were planning to do their own thing.

"De Moss will scale the walls with Lode's rangers. Your men Masin will follow them to cover their flanks once inside the city. Of course first we must take the walls, breech the defenses of the tower from above and clean it out of all hostiles. Speed and quietness must rule the day gentlemen. Destroy the grain silos and the warehouses. Give no quarters and remember, you have until dawn."

"Do we control the river?" Martell asked and the Duke pushed back on his chair, then loosened the scarf wrapped around his cuirass' collar.

"We can keep the enemy boats away during the night, but with most of the men still missing come morning, Osahar might push through and cut us off," Rik said and grimaced. "We can't pull more units from the center camps, lest we want to give them advanced warning. These past months rumors are a-leaking like out of a darn cracked barrel! You have until dawn. May the gods and all others, be with you," the Duke added and Cornelius found it strange he didn't name one of the Five Gods outright. Tyeus would have been the obvious choice, Uher of course and no one would have argued against a bit of Luthos too, but the Duke had opted to remain vague and used a rather bizarre turn of phrase.

Watching the quiet nods from some Scaldingport knights standing behind the Duke, Cornelius had this strange sense that they knew what the De Weer scion was talking about.

-

Two days later

An hour after midnight,

'Operation Main Market'

First hour,

Cornelius reached the top of the parapets. The first of the new recruits of Gold Contract Company to make it up the ten-meter tall siege-ladder and right after the last in a group of ten Crows on their side. Three of the latter had already fall to their death amidst the chaos, the sight of the burning warehouse at the beach spectacular underneath them, although Cornelius didn't have the time to appreciate it.

He rolled over the crenelated part of the curtain walls after heaving himself to the top, in order to land on the walkway, and immediately got splattered by gore from an Issir ranger dying to a spear thrust. Cornelius tried to get his shield out, secured on his back during the ascent, but got bodied on the merlon by a turbaned Khanate archer. The Horselord stabbed him in the kidneys with a dagger, but Cornelius twisted in his panic and helped the armour deflect the blow. The young man smashed the guard of his new sword in the sentry's face, splattering and then tearing part of a nose away. Blood sprayed out of the ghastly wound and the archer stumbled backwards with a muffled groan of pure misery.

With a roar of his own, Cornelius leaped forward and hoplite-kicked the Horselord off of the walkway. He doubled over on the verge of a heart-attack from the sudden burst of adrenalin, but an incoming arrow broke apart on his shoulder guard and a foot-long, thin splinter penetrated the side of his neck. It send him into a dangerous twirl, right at the edge of the walkway and Brody stopped him from taking the deadly dive grabbing at his elbow.

"A man just got his brains bashed in. Some weird stuff came out of his ears mate… shit, ye got wood in yer neck!" Brody yelled ogling his eyes, a manic expression in his flushed –despite the bitter cold- face and had the presence of mind to leap to Huibert's assistance, as the arriving young Issir had stuck petrified at the end of the ladder, too-scared to jump on the walkway.

"Argh… get that bloody shield up," Cornelius growled hoarsely, and tried to extract the splinter from his neck, while tasting blood in his mouth. It felt like a rough nail, hurt like a motherfucker, but thankfully he managed to get it out of him.

"The tower!" A Crow barked at a group of heavier armoured soldiers, as he hastily wrapped a cloth around the leaking wound. "Break that connecting door in!"

A grimacing Cornelius heard the Scorpio firing from the top of the tower and frantically gestured for his squad to take cover, random projectiles falling amidst their ranks. From arrows and javelins, to a chair hurled from the adjoined to the wall tower's parapets. By Luthos grace, no one got hurt. "Find the accursed stairs, damn it! We need to get off of this bloody ramp!" He yelled trying to navigate the dark and very narrow walkway without slipping and crashing to his death. "Tony! Find where the other sergeants groups are!"

"Here!" Tony screamed in response, and it sounded like 'thiar' due to his missing teeth giving him a retarded accent, but got his point across and all the nearby mercenaries moved to the narrow staircase leading to the base of the walls.

Cornelius rushed down the stairs two at a time after the surprisingly much faster Brody, who was doing fine up until the middle point, where his friend stumbled with a panicked squeal and plunged forward. He crashed on the startled –descending much slower- Tony's back and Cornelius watched them in horror tumbling down the stone steps in a heap of arms and legs to the bottom of the staircase.

"We're fine, brothers!" A grimacing Brody yelped in fake triumph, jumping to his rubbery feet, and tried to help a groaning Tony do the same, the pale and rattled from the fall Tony, was now also missing his helm. Cornelius spotted four Khanate guards arriving from the tower's yard, probably not realizing the tower was being attacked from the top, and hurried down the steps as fast as he could in order to help his momentarily outnumbered friends.

-

Twenty minutes later

"Rudd, clear those buildings facing the ramparts!" The Grey Cloak sergeant barked at a soldier looting a corpse. "Where is Lode?"

"A wagon came up the street, sarge," someone replied and Flip Zalme stood to perceive the butchery taking place twenty meters away. "A merchant with his son bringing up food. Lode shot the father in the face and they had to slay the boy too."

"Good," Zalme grunted callously and stared in Cornelius sweaty face first, afore turning his gaze at the mercenaries gathered around him. "We got the tower," he told them brusquely. "Stay out of our way until yer name is called."

Cornelius went to speak, but Bardo Masin arrived at that point with another group of mercenaries, followed by Adam Di Cresta's much larger clutch of Gallant Dogs.

"Did you lose anyone?" Masin asked glaring at the Crow's sergeant. "Adam lost four brothers. One drown in two meters of plaguing water and three to a blasted bolt! You spot something big comin' yer way, take a god darn dive!"

"Damian Sultz," Cornelius replied numbly, holding the bloody cloth on the wound. "He walked off of the walkway and broke his neck. We got him laying over there."

"Clumsy fuck. Uher rests his soul," Masin grunted pursing his mouth. "At least he had a hell of a ride to go out. Such is life lads."

"Not much of a ride," Brody commented wryly. "Or too-long a life, sarge."

Masin knitted a bushy pair of greying brows, not liking his friend's remarks.

"What will happen to him now, sir?" Huibert asked, still devastated at the loss of their comrade.

"We'll pick him up on our way out, princess. Damn it, get yourself straightened out soldier! Eh, anyways… Luthos owes you something fer sure, Wilde. I was expecting much worse casualties," Masin retorted after a small pause, vapors rising over his head. "Catch a breath, but we need to move inwards as soon as the Crows fan out."

"What's going on at the beaches?" Cornelius asked and Masin grabbed his cloak to bring him closer to his face.

"Forget about crafty Lu. He'll do his part," the sergeant rustled. "Stay focused now and keep those numskulls in line. Not a word, until I give the order," Basin warned with a glance at the returning Flip Zalme.

"De Moss is stuck under the wall," Zalme told them. "A rock dented his helm and the men paused to drag him away losing their advantage. Anyways, I charged a dozen good lads up the inner stairs to clean up the parapets on that side. Lode is already scouting up ahead towards the market. Now, I expect no problems there, but the warehouses and grain silos will be guarded no question about it," the bleak-eyed Flip Zalme paused to examine the mercenaries' faces intently. "We need to overwhelm them sentries and any reinforcements, have no bells ringing—"

"The bells are ringing, sir," Huibert interrupted him. The young Issir had the tendency of pointing out certain untruths, even at inopportune moments like this.

"Not anymore, they ain't," Flip retorted warningly, grinding his teeth. "My men will attack the front of the buildings, the moment we break out of the market," he continued. "Masin, have your mouthy idiots sweep the back and keep guard for any sneaky Khanate goons approaching."

Masin crooked his mouth, whilst behind him Brody put a palm on Huibert's face to prevent him from speaking out. He managed to block both his nose and mouth in the attempt.

"Do we have a problem, coin soldiers?" Zalme probed sensing something was amiss. Cornelius had explained the plan to his comrades minutes prior, but few had fully grasped this wasn't a fully authorized action by the Kaltha officials and more of a 'private escapade'.

The young, newly-minted in the field, petty officer had highlighted to his comrades more the act 'of getting our brothers back' and not the 'we might get ourselves killed in the attempt or face similar bodily harm, whether we succeed, or not.'

After receiving their silver Dog pendants during the boat ride up the river, most of the former recruits were still riding high on that experience.

"It's a darn shame about Damian," Brody remarked, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. "But this seems to be quite simple after all. I'll confess, I felt a bit anxious climbing up the ladder, mate. Them arse cheeks were kept clenched tight, for the whole fucking ascent!"

Cornelius heard the gongs responding to the now forcefully-muted alarm triggered by the tower, coming from the citadel's direction, and he grimaced. With the Viscount orchestrating a 'fake' morning attack after he had positioned the army in front of the city's walls, it was believed that most of Pourem's reserves would be stationed at the west walls and gates, too far away to offer any meaningful assistance to the north walls defenders.

Gods damn it, Brody!

Can you not jinx the fuck out of everything for once in yer blastled life?

"When time comes, don't hesitate," Masin grunted and gestured for Sergeant Adam Di Cresta to get his men marching after the slowly departing towards Main Market soldiers of the Desert Crows. Another twenty-strong and laden with crossbows mercenaries following after them. "We have eight hours until dawn. An hour to get there and another to return. Two more to get our people out! Finish this in four hours at the most, gentlemen. Hey. Eyes on me, Wilde! Snap out of it, boy!" Masin barked mistaking Cornelius' tensed expression for sluggishness.

For it was going to take them a bit more time than that and Cornelius could feel it in his bones, as the sound of bells ringing came from different parts of the sleeping city, but not as far away as one would have expected.

Fucking hells! Pourem knows, an anxious Cornelius thought, remembering his discussion with Slager in the tavern weeks earlier. Either someone tipped him off, or the slant-eyed bastard managed to figure our schemes out on his own.

The how, made little difference then for the petty sergeant, but it would come back to haunt them a bit later.

-

On certain days, you find yourself looking back. Particularly while huddled by a fireplace in the winter's chill. When your body feels like it's failing you each night and old wounds have turned festering. You recall your younger self, vibrant and full of life. Yet, not all memories bring joy; some choices still haunt your mind heavily.

It falls upon the commander to take charge of his men's failures and own their misfortune. Each loss weighs on his conscience like leaden weights, accompanied by the nagging thoughts of whether we could have acted differently. Should we have sacrificed our future prospects for a more straightforward present?

Those who were aware should have raised their voices, our inner demons might argue, but then it dawns on you that we were the ones who recognized the peril all along and did nothing. We weren't uneasy or mildly uncomfortable. We knew. Aye. We understood and still let things spiral downwards, blinded by our thirst for vengeance and immediate gains, before our journey in the realm of mortals ended.

One should never expect anything to make sense, unless he's fixin' for a scrap.

Unless he knows and just pretends that he doesn't out of spite and to satisfy or excuse his personal failures to the eyes of his peers. Blame the wrathful boogieman and wash our sins away.

Well then, senior…

Then it's on you.

Your fault.

Gods never trade fairly with mortals.

The full ending quote of the book here,

Taken from,

Commandant Rollon Martel's (Ret.)

The wandering blades

-An old dog's memoir-

Circa 201 NC

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